


The Comfort of Frozen Peas

by pirl



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Committed Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Visiting the parents, post 5x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirl/pseuds/pirl
Summary: Patrick and David visit Patrick's hometown. Mostly everything isn't awful.





	The Comfort of Frozen Peas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurmatisse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurmatisse/gifts).



> My prompt was "David and Patrick visit Patrick's parents/hometown." Alas, that is basically all this is. Somehow nearly 5K of it. What can I say, these dorks make me wanna write a lot about nothing. 
> 
> Needless to say I'm a) rusty b) new to writing in this fandom and c) regardless of all that super excited for a big ol' fashioned fic exchange! Huzzah to energetic and active fandoms!
> 
> Thanks to [pollitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt) for the 11th hour beta. 
> 
> Enjoy or send raspberries.

“Mm, can you turn up the volume?” David asked. “This is a good one.”

Patrick had found a pop radio station a few miles back that met David’s approval due to how infrequently they played Maroon 5, which lead to a story about Adam Levine being a “bitchy princess” at a party when David spilled a drink on his shirt.

“It was a white wine spritzer! Nothing was stained, but since then the attention whore rips his shirt off at any Instragram-able moment and I feel partially responsible. Alright, fine, you have washboard abs. Literally no one asked," David had huffed. 

They had been on the road for just under two hours. Leaving Schitt’s Creek went much smoother than Patrick had expected, mostly because he made David start packing two nights before they left, and the snack bag was planned and stocked two days before that. Patrick glanced at David in the passenger seat where he, unsurprisingly, found him focused on his phone and scrolling through photos of flower arrangements from what Patrick could tell. David had been curating a rather large mood board for their wedding to which Patrick had made only one request--keep it affordable.

Patrick saw an exit that looked promising and eased his car onto the ramp. “I need a bathroom break and I want to call Mayleen. Any requests?”

David looked around. “Hmm… oh! Timbits!” 

Patrick flicked on the turn signal. “Timbits it is.”

They had decided, with the wedding coming up, it would be a good idea to hire someone to be a back-up whenever both of them couldn’t be at the store. Patrick ran the numbers and said they would be better off paying someone to watch the store rather than lose the revenue and the trust of their customers if they closed sporadically. So after going through a very detailed vetting system devised by David, they had hired Mayleen, an eager honor roll student who was very excited to put the job on her university applications next year. As it turned out they needed her to cover the store sooner than expected when Patrick’s parents called and invited them home to celebrate Clint’s birthday and to: “Do something with all your boxes in the basement. You know we’ve had an awful lot of rain this year and I’m just afraid that it’ll flood and then there’d be such a mess, Patrick. Your father is very worried.”

Patrick had chuckled at that, knowing the basement had never once flooded and his father wasn't the one who was worrying. He looked at David, who had joined him for the call, and shrugged. David asked Marcy the specifics and she gave him a date that was three weekends away. He checked their calendar on his phone and nodded, his nervous smirk conveying the understanding that he’d be seeing for the first time where his fiancé grew up. Patrick smiled fondly at David and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ before telling his mom that if the weather looked good they’d head out after they closed the store on Friday.

Which is why they were currently making a pit stop at a roadside Tim Horton’s loading up on sugar and caffeine on a cold, late autumn evening. 

Back in the car, David started peppering Patrick with questions. “So your cousins Brie and Heather still live there?”

“Yeah. Matty is the one that moved to Calgary.”

“And he’s a boat captain,” David said.

“What? No, he’s a farrier. He puts horseshoes on horses.”

“That explains his snatched cowboy hat,” David said thoughtfully, referring to a photo Patrick had shared of him and his three cousins. “Does he wear leather chaps?”

“What? I don’t know.”

“Could he get you a pair?” David asked demurely. Patrick smirked and shook his head. “What? I think they would make a-- a nice piece for your wardrobe.” David tried for an innocent expression which looked about as sincere as a spray-on tan. “Leather is timeless,” he said softly, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading. 

Patrick just continued to shake his head and chuckled. “Sure, I’ll ask him for a pair for Christmas. They’ll probably smell like horse, though.”

“Ew. Hard pass.”

+++++++

Nearly three hours later they pulled into the driveway of a blonde brick, ranch-style home with the floodlights lit, welcoming them from the darkened street. White shutters framed the windows under which well-manicured evergreen bushes sat in mulched landscaping beds. An old basketball hoop still hung above the garage door, its net long gone. 

Patrick cut the engine but made no move to get out of the car. “Well, this is it,” he said.

David turned to him, his face askew with a smirk. “It’s very cute. Very you.”

“I’m sure my mom has been sitting by the window watching for-- Yep. There she is.” He opened the door and climbed out of the car as Marcy emerged from the house and came down the walkway toward them, waving excitedly. Clint was a few steps behind her, both of them in their robes and slippers. “Hey, mom. Dad.”

“Oh, my boy is home!” Marcy cried as she pulled Patrick into a fierce hug. “I’ve missed you!”

Patrick laughed into her shoulder, “It’s only been a couple of months.” 

She let go and waved her hand in his face, batting away the statement as if it were an annoying fly. “I don’t care. I’m allowed. David!” David had made his way around the car and now found himself in the soft yet strong embrace of his future mother-in-law. 

“Hello, Marcy. So good to see you again,” David said warmly.

Clint shared a hug with Patrick and David as well, though not as exuberant as his wife’s. “Did you run into any weather?”

Patrick shook his head. “It was clear the whole way.”

“That’s good. Well, let’s get your bags and get out of the cold!”

Marcy headed inside while Clint, David, and Patrick grabbed all four bags--one was Patrick’s while the other three belonged to David. He had argued that they were sharing the nighttime face cream and herbal shampoo, so technically they both had two bags. 

As soon as the bags and shoes were deposited by the door David and Patrick promptly found themselves ensconced on the couch with plates of heated up leftovers pressed into their hands while a gas-lit fireplace warmed the room. 

The two of them quickly brought Patrick’s parents up to speed on the status of the store and touched a bit on the wedding plans with the promise to talk more about it tomorrow once David unpacked his journal. David shoved another delicious forkful of pot pie casserole into his mouth and studied the photos on the mantle while Patrick’s parents dished on the latest town gossip. There was a photo of very tiny Patrick, round-cheeked and sunburnt in a floppy hat holding a fish. There he was again, slightly older and sitting at a piano with an elderly woman. Next to it was a photo of the same woman, holding a pie and laughing. On the bookshelf he could see more photos that needed closer inspection tomorrow, but then he saw his own face. It was a selfie Patrick had taken one night for no reason other than, “you look really nice tonight,” to which David stated confidently that he looked good every night and Patrick laughed. In the photo they are smiling at each other, Patrick’s mouth slightly open.

“We look like demented Muppets. Why do you like it so much?” David had said.

Patrick shrugged. “We just look really happy. It makes me feel good.”

And now David felt good looking where it sat, framed (rather elegantly) in the home of his future in-laws. 

He turned to Patrick, his hand instinctively reaching for his knee and rubbing it firmly. Patrick turned to him with a smile on his face bright enough to light the sky, and David felt the calming warmth of contentment wash over him. 

+++++++

David slowly woke up, stretching and rolling over to nuzzle into Patrick only to find that he was alone in bed. Pouting slightly, he reached over and planted his face into Patrick’s pillow, catching only the slightest whiff of him, along with an unfamiliar scent of a detergent he wasn’t used to. 

Flopping back over David groaned and rubbed his eyes. Waking up in a strange place always unnerved him and his first thoughts usually were: “Where’s my phone? Where’s my wallet? Where are my clothes? How do I get out of here?” So he reminded himself that he was in Patrick’s childhood home, and later they were going out to dinner with his family to celebrate Clint’s birthday. Satisfied that he had his facts straight, David grabbed his phone and checked his messages. One was a picture from Stevie of a cat wearing a sensible ladies business suit--a continuation of their conversation earlier that week about fancy-looking animals. The other message was an exchange from Mayleen addressed to both him and Patrick saying that she opened the store just fine and had to bump the heat up because of the cold weather, to which Patrick responded, “Keep warm! Thanks again!”

Before long, David was shuffling down the hallway in his pajamas and Uggs toward the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. There he found Patrick and Marcy sitting at the table, both deep into their cups of tea. Creaky floorboards gave his presence away and the two turned their attention toward him. 

“Ooh, perfect, I’ll get breakfast started.” Marcy got out of her chair and walked over to David, pressing a hand to his face in greeting. “Good morning, dear.” She said as she made her way to the counter. 

Patrick got up and placed a kiss on David’s cheekbone. His voice was warm and soft. “Good morning.”

David leaned in to the gesture. “Mmm, good morning. Is there coffee?” 

Patrick chuckled and pointed to the counter behind his mother before he fetched the creamer from the fridge. He placed it on the container next to where David was helping himself, his hand lingering on his arm a moment before making his way back to the table where David eventually joined him.

“Did you boys sleep well? I put one of those memory foam thingies on the bed a few months ago and Aunt Ruby loved it so much she bought one for her and Tom.” Marcy told them.

“I slept great,” David offered, “and I appreciate the high thread-count sheets.”

Patrick threw a wink in David’s direction as Marcy replied. “For that you get extra strawberries on your pancakes.”

David preened and Patrick laughed.

+++++++

After breakfast Patrick joined Clint in the basement to tackle the boxes Patrick he had left. He assured David earlier that there was nothing of interest in them--They were the boxes he’d hastily packed when he broke it off with Rachel one last time and moved back with his parents before setting off for Schitt’s Creek. At the time he hadn’t had it in himself to throw away items from his life with Rachel because, even though it really felt like the end, history had shown him otherwise. So ninety percent of what was stored in cardboard was taken to the curb to be carted away for good. The other ten percent--some financial textbooks, DVDs, and photos from his former beer league--were saved. 

Meanwhile, Marcy and David were upstairs on the couch going through baby photos and school yearbooks. The wedding planning was put aside when Marcy mentioned Patrick wearing a tux when he was three that had a very ruffled shirt and David insisted on seeing a picture. Patrick had joined them in the embarrassing journey down memory somewhere around age nine. 

“That’s him in Scouts.” Marcy pointed to a picture of Patrick in a khaki shirt and black neckerchief, a large red sash with different embroidered patches adorned his chest. 

“I’m sorry, what? You were in a baby army?” David spluttered.

“Scouts Canada, David. You know, ‘I promise to do my best, to love and serve God, to do my duty to the Queen-’” Patrick recited. 

“Nope. The only queen I serve is Beyonce,” David flipped the album to another page, “and Oprah,” he waited for a pause before adding, “and Shania when I’m feeling challenged.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with photos and stories of Patrick’s childhood before the group decided it was time to get ready for dinner. David and Patrick took a bit more time getting ready than planned since, even though it had been turned into a guest room and was devoid of anything from Patrick’s formative years, a quick and dirty mutual hand-job was deemed absolutely necessary by David in his desire to defile Patrick in his childhood bedroom. 

Dinner was a lovely gathering at Clint’s favorite restaurant. They had a semi-private room reserved for them and a staff so attentive and professional that David hardly knew what to do with himself. Patrick’s cousins were there with their spouses and children, along with Marcy’s brother and Clint’s brother. David felt overwhelmed at first, being introduced to so many people he had heard about but had neither met nor had any contact with other than being in the background of a FaceTime phone call. Patrick had kept him close to his side the entire time, a comforting arm around his shoulder or an ever-present hand against the small of his back. He knew David’s anxiety would be his worst enemy that night, so he did everything to keep it in check. 

After dinner the adults clustered at one end of the table, drinking coffees and finishing glasses of wine, while the kids kept busy on their tablets at the other end. David had been quietly listening to their stories for a while now, just taking in the hints and details of who and what influenced and made the man who sat next to him the person he is today. Patrick turned to him and seeing the look of fondness on David’s face asked him, “What?”

“Nothing. Just… happy.” Patrick leaned over and kissed him. “Thanks for bringing me this weekend.”

Patrick sighed happily, taking David’s ringed hand into his own. “I’m so glad we could do this.” They both knew that he wasn’t just talking about being able to take time out of their schedules. Not being out to his family had been such a burden on Patrick for a long time. 

“Me too, even if your family makes my mine look a thousand times more unhinged.”

+++++++

After having cake back at the house, Patrick had somehow wrangled David into going out for some drinks at his favorite hangout even though he described it as “the most puke-free bar in town.” David had hoped one or two of Patrick’s cousins would join them, if only for protection from the inevitable thrown beer bottle, but the excuses of kids and exhaustion found just the two of them going for a nightcap.

David held the door open for Patrick. The chivalry was unintended, he just wanted to avoid walking first into what looked like a place one notch up from the Wobbly Elm on the scale of Smelly Dive Bars. Staying on Patrick’s heels for moral support, David immediately needed him for physical support when his sneakers hit the linoleum floor and the water from melted snow made his foot slip out from under him.

“Whoa! You okay?” Patrick stopped and placed his hands over David’s, which were gripped tight on his left arm.

“Yeah. Yep.” David shook it off. “Just… going to completely ignore the bad omen.” 

Following Patrick once again, though this time with his hands now firmly holding onto his shoulders, they walked in tandem toward the bar where a very small, older woman was cutting lime wedges. Without looking up she said with a rasp, “Sorry about the floor, my useless bar-back still isn’t back from his smoke break.”

“Hey there, Frannie,” Patrick said in a friendly greeting.

She lifted her eyes from her limes and squinted at him before her face broke out in a huge grin. “Holy shit. Is that my Patty Cakes?”

Patrick flinched ever so slightly at that, knowing full well that David would be unrelenting in calling him ‘Patty Cakes’ for the foreseeable future. “Yeah, it’s me. How’re things?”

“Alcohol is king in a world full of sad S.O.B’s.” David half-snorted and followed it up with a barely audible, ‘preach.’ Frannie, oblivious to David’s additions, continued “Are you back in town for good?”

“No, just visiting my parents for the weekend.” 

“Who’s your friend?” She gestured toward David. 

With a grin large enough to split his face, Patrick threw his arm over David’s shoulders and said, “Frannie, this is David, my fiance.”

“No shit.” She raised one eyebrow improbably high and gave David a once over. “So Rachel is kaput?”

Patrick started to fidget. “Uh…”

“Eh. She was too good for you anyway.” She pointed her knife at David. “Him too, probably.” 

David leaned over and placed his elbows on the bar, his face cradled in his hands as he narrowed his gaze at her. “I like you.” 

“Wait til’ you get to know me,” she quipped. 

“I’ll probably like you more. Do you know how to make polar bear shots?”

“Best you’ll find north of Toronto.”

They, in fact, were not, but Patrick wouldn’t let David tell her.

+++++++

The place started to get more crowded so the two of them eventually made their way to a quieter corner of the bar to let Frannie deal with her customers. To David’s delight, the quiet corner happened to have an empty pool table. 

“Fact. This is the one sport-thing I can totally do. One night Zooey Deschanel grabbed me to, what I’d thought at the time, help her hustle these Jersey Shore skeeves that were totally on some bad molly. It turns out she was using me to get back at her boyfriend. Which, I mean, just give me a heads-up and I’m one hundred percent, but there was literally no warning and the next thing I know her cue stick is between my legs--”

“Okay, David!” Patrick clapped his hands together, his face a study in learned patience. “Wanna break?”

They played a competitive game, with Patrick outright losing even though he was fully prepared to take a dive to avoid David’s sore loser sulk. His penalty was to buy the next round. While he waited for Frannie to make their drinks the front door opened and a vaguely familiar face walked in. After a moment recognition set in and Patrick cringed inwardly, looking away to avoid catching their gaze. He quickly paid Frannie and returned his table, setting their drinks down before maneuvering his chair into such an awkward position that immediately confused David. 

“Uh… what’s going on?” He waved his hand around Patrick. 

“See that guy in the green jacket by the Molson sign?” Patrick hooked his thumb to indicate an area behind him. “He was the _biggest_ jerk in high school. He’s a couple years older but we were on the baseball team together. He made my life a living hell the year he graduated.”

David peeked not-so-subtly over Patrick’s shoulder and squinted in disgust. “You mean the reject offspring of Logan Paul and Matt Lauer wearing truckstop couture? Yeah, he definitely looks like he has multiple ex-wives with liquor-themed names. Like Chardonnay, or Skyy...”

Patrick cracked up and leaned forward to place a kiss on the corner of David’s mouth. “Bailey,” he suggested. 

“Zima.” After another good laugh, David’s face turned serious. “Do you want to leave? Is he going to bother you?”

“No, no, it's fine. It’s just a learned behavior I guess. Whenever Mike Bernard came around you just… avoided him”

David rubbed his hands up and down Patrick’s biceps, “Well, just say the word and we can be out of here. There’s that cake at your parents’,” he hinted. 

Patrick looked fondly at David. “It was really good.”

“Cream cheese frosting,” David cooed.

“Yep! You’re right. Let’s go back.” 

David nodded and proceeded to drain most of his glass, not wanting to let his pool winnings go to waste. “I’m going to use the restroom before we leave,” he said as Patrick stood and put on his coat. He grabbed David’s coat and told him that he would go and say goodbye to Frannie and meet him at the bar.

Walking over, Patrick took one last pull from his beer before he set the bottle and David’s half-full glass on the bar. He waved at Frannie who came over and exclaimed, “What? You didn’t like my drinks?” indicating toward the bottle and glass.

“No, not at all. We just have to leave.”

“Well, it was good to see you Patty Cakes. Come around here and give an old lady a hug!”

Patrick laughed and made his way behind the bar to hug her. “You take care, Frannie.” 

Patrick made his way back around to wait for David. He leaned with his back against the bar and pulled out his phone to check his messages. A young woman walked up next to him and ordered a drink and after a moment asked, “Hey, I know you, don’t I?” 

She was wearing a very short jean skirt with an oversized black sweater that hung off one shoulder revealing the burgundy strap of her bra. “Yeah, you’re the guy who played guitar at those coffee house things. Pat something.”

“Yep, that was me,” he confessed with a smile. “Patrick Brewer,” he held out his hand to shake hers. 

“Dory Manilow, like the singer,” she winked. “I really liked listening to you play. Real sweet-like. I bet you make all the girls fall in love with you.”

Patrick smirked, his eyes amused, “You’d be surprised.”

Dory found this very amusing and laughed very loudly, throwing her hand up to hit him on the shoulder. “You’re cute.”

“Who the fuck is this Dory?” an angry voice slurred loudly. Dory’s sweet, flirtatious persona disappeared and Patrick hung his head, mumbling a curse under his breath after seeing it was Mike Bernard.

“Jesus Christ Mike, chill the fuck out! We were just talkin’!” Dory shouted.

“You got your fuckin’ hands all over him!” he shouted back. Which was the moment David returned from the bathroom. 

“Um… hi?” He looked suspiciously at the two people in front of Patrick then turned his attention to him. “Are you ready to go?”

Mike ignored David and was focused solely on Patrick. “Well look who it is. Baby Brewski.” His eyes narrowed, looking like had an animal caught in a trap. His tone was aggressive and it alarmed David.

Patrick handed David his jacket and answered with a flat, “Hi Mike, goodbye Mike,” but Mike’s firm hand on his chest halted any progress toward the door. 

“What? Can’t satisfy your own piece so you gotta sniff around mine?” He pointed at Dory. 

David recoiled. “Okay, wow! Nope. Bye!” He put his hand on Patrick’s elbow and pushed him toward the door and away from Mike.

“I’m not done with you, Brewer!” Mike exploded. 

What happened next seemed to move in slow motion. David was ushering Patrick in front of him when he saw Mike come from the side toward Patrick, arm cocked as if to swing a punch. David let go of Patrick and went to push either Mike or Patrick out of the way (he really wasn’t sure) when Mike slipped on the wet floor. Mike careened head-first into David who had his arms out, but David was now off-balance and ended up grabbing Mike as he also fell, pulling Mike down toward himself. Patrick turned in time to get behind David, but over-compensated trying to catch him from falling and threw his own body off-center. The three of them crashed to the ground: Patrick first on his butt, David on top of him, the back of his head protected against Patrick’s stomach, and Mike last. The impact drove Mike’s forehead into David’s face with a loud THOCK!

The sharp sound of pain from David propelled Patrick into action. He heaved Mike off of them and onto the wet floor, pulling himself and David up to their knees. David’s hands covered his face, his body curled in on itself. 

“David! David, let me see!” He pried David’s hands from his face.

“Ow ow ow ow ow,” David whimpered, his eyes watering. “Fuck! Oh my God, tell me my nose isn’t broken!” He pleaded Patrick.

David’s eyes swam upward as Patrick gently felt around his nose and eye for any damage. David flinched and hissed, his hands fanning the air around his face. Patrick didn’t find anything that indicated serious damage had been done to David’s face. 

A moan and a curse from the floor beside them caught his attention then. Patrick, still cradling David’s face, fumed at Mike. “This is my fiancé, you ignorant reptile!”

It took a moment for Mike to compute what Patrick had said. “Wait… so-- so Rachel’s single?” A look of hope softened his face a moment before Dory came over and started to furiously smack him over and over.

+++++++

Patrick held the bag of frozen peas to David’s face as they sat at his parents’ kitchen table. Their knees slotted together, David’s hands on Patrick’s thighs, as the two of them tried to dissect what had happened earlier. 

“So he bullied you back then because he was thirsty for Rachel?” David asked.

Patrick shrugged in disbelief. “I guess?”

“That’s sad.” David’s tone was of disapproval rather than empathy. 

Patrick sighed, “I feel bad for Dory.”

“Who?”

“Mike’s girlfriend at the bar.”

David hummed in response. They were silent for a while before David exclaimed, “Oh my God! Her name is Dory? As in... Midori?” David was beyond gleeful.

Patrick started laughing so hard he was in tears. That was how Clint found them.

“What’s going on? David! Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Clint said with concern. 

“Sorry dad, we didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“What happened?”

“David was defending my honor and got caught in the crossfire,” Patrick said proudly, his face a portrait of affection.

“I fell down,” David said wearily, correcting him.

Patrick relented. “You threw yourself in front of a guy who was going to punch me.”

The corner of David’s mouth turned up. “I mean, yes,” the side of his face that wasn’t covered in frozen peas was lit with playful pride, “it was a very brave thing to do.” 

“Are you two going to be okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah dad, thanks. We’ll see you in the morning.”

When the bag of peas melted to the point they were dripping water onto David’s lap, they decided to turn in. David added a couple ibuprofen pills to his nighttime regime, lamenting that his face was going to look hideous. He refused to allow Patrick’s interest in him sporting a sexy black eye, and only accepting that since the wedding wasn’t right around the corner that he wouldn’t look like a plague victim in their photos. 

They lay in bed for a long while--warm and nestled and coming down from their unexpectedly eventful night. Eventually, David turned on his side and faced Patrick, who was already facing him. The light of the moon offered just enough illumination for them to see one another. David’s lips were scrunched up and furiously being chewed on. Patrick thought he might be in pain, but the fingers that were very diligently picking at the collar of Patrick’s t-shirt--and obviously fixing nothing--told him David’s mind was engrossed in something else. 

“What’s going on in there?” Patrick brought a hand up and softly poked at David’s forehead. 

“I’m feeling… it’s just, being here with you and your parents, meeting your family, almost getting permanently disfigured in a bar fight,” Patrick smiled at David’s exaggeration, “I think I’m feeling something that I’ve never experienced before and I’m not, I’m just not… sure. What to do. About it.” He continued to pluck at Patrick’s collar, avoiding his eyes. 

Patrick’s voice was soft and full of love and concern. “What are you feeling?” He stayed silent while David took some time building the courage to continue. 

“Optimistic?” The word was whispered without a gram of conviction.

Patrick’s heart broke for David once again.

“David,” Patrick reached out and gently cupped the side of his face, his thumb softly tracing the skin under his slowly bruising eye while David’s gaze found his once again, “I’m so thankful I met you, and I’m so looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together, running the store, avoiding bar fights and whatever else comes our way.” He kissed David, long and solid, before continuing, “We’re going to have so much fun.”

David smiled and pulled Patrick’s hand from his face, bringing it to his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his lips hard against Patrick’s knuckles. After a moment, his voice watery, he responded without question, “We are, aren’t we.” 

Patrick rolled onto his back and David nestled under his arm, his head over Patrick’s heart. Patrick’s arm squeezed David tight to him as he kissed the top of David’s head. Breathing in deep, Patrick thanked the set of circumstances in his life that led him to this current moment. 

That was, until he heard David softly chuckle, “Patty Cakes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on tumblr as [toastandratjam](https://toastandratjam.tumblr.com) or on twitter as [@pirl_girl](https://twitter.com/pirl_girl).


End file.
